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You Never Know Who You Might Meet
“Good evening, Sacramento.” The newscaster’s serious voice filled the silence of my living room. “There are currently still no leads in the murder cases of three young girls that occurred in the area. Emilia Lasader, Jessica Grayson, and Ariana Sturn were all found raped and brutally murdered in the past month. All three of the bodies were found in a similar position, lying in an empty bathtub, with one leg over the other. Surprisingly, no blood was found at any of the scenes. It is believed that bleach had been used, but investigators are unsure. At this point, the most we can do is advise you all to lock your doors at night, and keep a watchful eye on your children at all times.” I let out a bitter chuckle and switched off the television. What was I even doing here? I was sitting on my sofa, watching the news, what a waste. Since the day was still light, I figured I could go hang out at the park for a while. You never know who you might meet. I noticed that there were less people out than usual. Cowards, I thought. Afraid of a killer who goes after LITTLE GIRLS. Murderers killed people who were tempting to them, or had something to offer. As far as I could tell, these citizens were ugly and certainly not children. I arrived at the local park near the primary school quickly, scanning the area for that special woman who looked as though she could fulfill my desires. I found her, and was absolutely haunted by her looks. Big brown eyes, peaches and cream skin, and best of all, golden curls that framed her delicate face like a halo. With her, was an older woman. The woman had long black hair and dark green eyes. The vibe I got from her was intense, almost frightening in a way. After introducing myself, I discovered that the females’ names were Brittany and Shia. Shia was the black-haired one, Brittany was the blonde. Apparently Brittany and Shia were living together, in a small home near the outskirts of town. After a useless half hour of talking, I found myself right where I wanted to be, sitting in Shia’s living room, cuddling my sweet little Britt. Shia’s emerald eyes were fixed on me intently, as if she was trying to look into my soul. The odd vibe doubled practically every minute I was close to Shia. It went from odd to frightening to jealous to almost murderous. Not that I was really scared of her, considering I could take her down, so easily it was laughable. The evening spent with this psycho was nearly unbearable, but being close to Brittany was worth it. Touching her creamy skin… taking in the aroma… running my nails, jagged and now showcasing a reddish tint in the top, over her limp body… I ached with desire at hearing her screams. Brittany fought a little at first, but we got through that phase quickly and hopefully quietly. Her and I lounged in the bathtub later that night. I laughed at the way her facial expression never changed, the way her legs remained wrapped around me no matter how I moved. Shia walked in on us soon after, her anger was unavoidable. I dealt with her in record time though, ignoring her shouts and blows. Before exiting the house, I treated my sweet little Britt to one last scrub down and even drained the tub for her. Life went on as usual, meeting new girls, spending evenings in new places, watching people cower as each murder remained unsolved… “Good evening Sacramento.” The ever so familiar monotone voice said. “Another tragedy has occurred in our city. Six year old Brittany Hardin was found dead in her home early this morning. There appeared to be no blood or sign of forced entry in the home, but Brittany’s guardian’s whereabouts are currently unknown. Hardin’s murder is thought to be connected to the recent murders of Ariana Sturn, Jessica Grayson, and Emilia Lasader….” As the voice droned on, a photograph appeared on the screen with the caption “RIP Brittany” The female in the picture had big brown eyes, peaches and cream skin, and best of all, golden curls that framed her delicate face like a halo. I ran my fingers through my new woman’s black tresses while switching off the television. It’s a shame that some people died so young. Category:Mental Illness Category:Historical Archive